


Soul meets body

by kastiyana



Series: Not proud, but happy [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Loki is a drama king, Passive-aggression, This is a soap opera already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:42:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kastiyana/pseuds/kastiyana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We need to talk", he shooted, just like that and he could swear - oh Gods!- that he saw her jolt in despair. </p><p>"Please, lets not... can we just..."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Pretend everything is normal?"</p><p>"No, we can't"</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Jane, something is going on between us"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul meets body

**Author's Note:**

> Again, there is not an order in what I'm writing, so you must build the time line. The scene that comes chronologically after "The wrong direction" is writen and it will be posted soon (not today)

And I cannot guess what we'll discover  
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels  
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s  
And not one speck will remain  
(Soul meets body - Death cab for a cutie)

Loki sang in his head moving slightly his feet, he was about pick his air guitar when he saw her. He turned off his Ipod, relieved; for a second he was sure she would not appear. Jane greeted “normally”, or at least that’s what she was trying to pretend. They started to walk in an irregular silence, there was three feet distance between them. She had her hands in her pockets and seemed rigid, maybe was the cold; maybe she wanted to be anywhere else but there with him.

Then, why did she agreed to see him?

Because there were two of her favorite things: a park and a book fair.

‘I am nothing special’, Loki convinced himself.

“Look, Wittgenstein”, Jane called, pointing an old book in a shelf.

“Oh, fantastic”, the English student picked the book, leafing through the pages with interest.

"What is that book about anyway?", she asked.

"Language philosophy, is related with linguistics I think this could be useful for my thesis"

"I thought you were writing about american theater"

"I am, but I need theoretical support to interpret the plays and prove my point of view"

"Oh"

Loki paid the book and put it in his bag. Jane kept looking. There were a lot of things she was interested in. Physics, Astronomy, Logic, Chemistry. "I need to understand the elements to know what are the components of the stars and the universe, and us" she explained once, and he could understand her curiosity because once he started to read neurology papers just to understand how the memory works, and then how is that related with language development. "Because our knowledge is a product of our language" he explained to her and she understood, fascinated.

"Look, this aren't Science review numbers?" (1) Loki pointed to a box in one of the stalls.

"Oh my... they are”, she answered surprised, “come on, help me to find something interesting”.

Twenty minutes later she was carrying a bag with seven issues of the magazine, refusing to be helped.

It was darkening and the cool air was getting almost painful, however it, Jane - stuborn, confusing, magnetic Jane - stood far from him. Why this sudden distance? He knew it was his fault, but he could not regret what he did in that concert. He needed to kiss her, he did what he needed. End of story.

Now, he needed to feel her arm entwined with his, the warm of her closeness at his side and he could not obligate her to hold him. Didn't he?

"We need to talk", he shooted, just like that and he could swear - oh Gods!- that he saw her jolt in despair. 

"Please, lets not... can we just..."

"What?"

"Pretend everything is normal?"

"No, we can't"

"Why?", she looked pained. He felt guilty. How he dare to make her uncomfortable, maybe he should just drop the subject.

"Jane, something is going on between us"

“No, Loki, this is... wrong, we shouldn’t”

“Didn’t you feel it? When we kissed?”

“You kissed me”, she corrected.

“You responded”

“It was a thing of the moment, we were alone and that damn song...”

“It wasn’t the song, you sighed, you shivered in my arms, I remember you expression very well, Jane Foster”  
“Please, Loki... don’t do this, this is not... I’am with Thor, you are his brother, we shouldn’t be together now, talking this... I don’t want to lose your friendship, you are... so important to me”

“Maybe you should ask yourself why”, he retorted feeling the anger growing in him. He couldn’t believe this woman.

He started to walk away quickly, long firm steps. He seemed so proud and cold and Jane could swear that she heard the bricks falling between them. She stood staring at him, long seconds, a twister running in her mind. Maybe she should let him go; maybe they needed to get away from each other. She should concentrate in Thor or in her thesis. She didn’t love Thor and they weren’t exactly committed but, what kind of a person would she be if she kept playing with both brothers?

Loki was now a small figure in the distance, tall, dark and magnetic and “please, please, don’t go, Loki, don’t go, stay, don’t ask me anything, just...”. Jane ran to him and grabbed the sleeve of his leather jacket. He stopped, he looked at her, tired, blank expression and said, deep and dramatically:

“Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.  
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.  
In you the wars and the flights accumulated.  
From you the wings of the song birds rose.  
You swallowed everything, like distance.  
Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank!” (2)

“What in the world was that?”, she asked, feeling on the verge of emotional collapse.

“Something I memorized wanting to impress you”, he admitted with weary resignation and she gasped, sounding almost like a sob. 

“Is it working?, Do you want to hear the rest?”

“Oh, shut up!”, she claimed, grabbing his scarf to pull him down for a kiss, their mouths crushed without any glory or elegance. It was almost ridiculous. 

“What does this mean?” He asked surprised.

“Oh, God, I wish I knew... I... you... just” she rushed, high pitched, freaking out.

He understood and took her lips again, tugging her under lip, biting, sucking, swirling his tongue inside the kiss, capturing hers, taking her breath away; erasing whatever memory of Thor of her mind, just for a while. She grabbed his scarf desperate, like her life depended on it. Not wanting to think, because even if she went to hell because of all this, she felt that only when she kissed her friend, her body enacted her soul desires.

**Author's Note:**

> (1) An important scientific publication
> 
> (2) Fragment of “A song of despair”, a poem by Pablo Neruda.


End file.
